Weird

Had a strange dream the other night. Have no clue what it means, if anything.

In my dream I was pregnant again, this time it was my baby, and I knew it was a son.

I (somehow) took the fetus out, it was about the size of a peanut, and set it on the table to show my daughter.

"This is your brother," I said.

I pointed out his beating heart, and how he was (visibly) growing, then told her it was time to put him back.

Here's where it gets REALLY freaky. The fetus was now a dessert-plate sized crab.

(I know, I wouldn't want to be my subconscious, either.)

The crab was alive, bright red (which, while awake, I know means it's been boiled already), and waving its claws around. (Claws? Pincers? Who knows or cares?)

So I just shoved that sucker back where it belonged. And trust me, a fucking crab that size just does not fit "up there", okay?!

Thankfully the dream ended there, so I didn't have to give birth to some crab mutant.

And I don't want any jokes about pubic lice, you hear me?

Sweet...

To me, tips are icing.

If a client stiffs me, he will be roundly cursed behind his back.

If a client gives me ANYTHING it's greatly appreciated. Tips are my grocery money, my movie-ticket money, my hey!-let's-have-McDonald's-for-dinner money.

Today I was stiffed by one client, who was rude enough to be late AND didn't shower (Bastard), and his girlfriend, whom Angie had the "privilege" of massaging, didn't wash her hands after using the bathroom before the massage. But I digress...

Another client who received our "super-deluxe massage", a $200 service, gave me a folded twenty afterwards, while I was changing the linens. Hey, that's 10%, I'll take it! I stuffed it in my pocket and thought nothing more of it.

I stopped at Smith's on the way home to pick up stuff for dinner, and the total came to approx. $13.00. I took out the folded twenty to pay, unfolded it, and found ANOTHER twenty was folded up with it.

Woo-hoo!

Thanks, Ms. L. You really made my day. Not to mention making up for Mr. Cheap Asshole.

Why?

Why does this shit always happen to me?

We were in the dog park less than 5 seconds, my hounds were indulging themselves in their first sprint across the field, when Harley, the small (15 pound) pup intersected the path of a mentally and physically handicapped teen aged girl.

She was running full-out, being "chased" by some other dogs, looking over her shoulder instead of where she was going and tripped over Harley, ending up doing a face-plant in the grass.

Thankfully, Harley wasn't hurt...

Is that callous? Maybe, but I don't give a shit, frankly.

Yes, of course I'm glad that no lasting damage was done to the kid, but either way...wtf was she doing in the dog park, anyway?

She was there with her Grandma, they didn't have a dog...it's not a playground, folks!

If the girl likes dogs, great, bring her to the park and then PARK her ass on a bench, so she can watch. Don't let her run around the field with about twenty dogs who are going in all different directions if she doesn't have the capacities to pay attention and stay on her feet.

My dog was scared out of his tiny mind, jumped into my arms and tried to climb on top of my head. Luckily, he was only traumatised for about 18 seconds (his entire attention span). Then he was off and running again.

The girl was complaining to Grandma that she couldn't breathe (but was having no problems talking, go figure), and they packed up and left a few minutes later, with Grandma telling her she'd take her to the doctor. I attempted to apologize about three times (why? Because I'm overly socialized), but Grandma completely ignored me and wouldn't even look at me.

An hour later, a couple with their cute Boston terrier showed up at the park. I just wish they had found a babysitter for their obnoxious, four-year-old son...

Piece of...

Seen today at a local hospital, a truck from this company.

I'm sorry, Folks, but the first thing that came to MY mind was, naturally, the obvious...Piece of Shit!

It's just the way my filthy mind works.

Guess what?!

That's always an ominous question to field from a client, but especially when it's a male client and you just flipped him over onto his back...

Me(hesitantly): Yes? *Oh, no, what's he gonna say now...?*

Him(jubilantly): You know, I have two extra bones in my body!

Me: *Oh, my God! Please, PLEASE don't get weird on me now...!* Okay?

Him: Yeah, right underneath each of my outside ankle bones, do you see?

Me: Wow, you're right! How *freaky, weird, bizarre*...um, interesting.

And it's true. He had a small, superfluous bone with a knuckle-like protrusion located just inferior to the lateral malleolus of each foot. (just underneath the outside ankle-bone of each foot, to be non-anatomical!)

You just never know how these massages are going to go.

Quit doin' that!

Had ANOTHER side-by-side massage with B. today. Our clients were two young ladies receiving massages for the first time. Of course they kept their *expletive deleted* underwear on, even after it was explained to them how that would affect the massage.

Whatever, I thought.

But after I had flipped my lady over to work on the front of her body, I noticed that every time I happened to glance at her face, she was staring at me.

Staring.

Staring.

I was totally creeped out. I tried not to let it bother me, and failed miserably.

The worst was when I was working on her head and neck, because I was sitting about six inches away from her face.

I finally just closed my eyes, since I can literally do that part of the massage blind-folded.

Turns out B.'s client was doing the same to her!

They were really good tippers, so I'll try not to think too badly of them...even though they're WEIRD!!!

Thankful

I'm thankful that nobody can force me to go on this ride.

(the one on the extreme left...)



Maybe if someone offered me a hundred grand...

Happy Thanksgiving, Everyone!

Lesson learned

Always turn the light on BEFORE breaking up a dogfight which is raging at 2AM on top of your sleeping bod.


And don't let pups bring rawhide chews into bed with them...

I know the picture quality sucks ass, but I couldn't get the camera to focus better.

The stuff that looks like peeling skin around the bite? A massage therapist's best friend: Liquid bandage

Yes, I'm aware I've got "big guns", they're my not-so-secret massage weapon, especially my elbows.

And yes, I'm glow-in-the dark pale (aka "fish-belly white").

Finally

Tomorrow I start a new phase in my life.

Sounds overly dramatic, but it's true!

Tomorrow I start my first week as a full-time massage therapist.

Since I came back from maternity leave, I've been working the front desk of the spa Tuesdays-Thursdays, while only doing overflow massage, assuming there was another front desk coordinator there to cover for me (which wasn't often).
Friday and Saturday were my only "true" massage days.

Now we have two new front desk personnel (whom I helped train to do things MY WAY the right way), and I'll be exclusively doing massage every day.

I'm so happy!

Plus my hours changed so I'll be getting home earlier (that's good), which necessitates getting UP earlier (not-so-good).

But I'm happiest because this means much, much more blog-fodder to feed you with!

And I know that just thrills you all to pieces, right?

Right?!

*sounds of stifled laughter drifting through the ether*

Oh, well.

On my way home today...

I saw two young, clean-cut men, walking down Flamingo Street, East-bound, wearing flip-flops and bright, white bathrobes.

Must've lost a bet!

Get the fire good and hot...

Had another side-by-side with B. today. Pretty much a routine deep-tissue massage, with B. massaging the marathon-running wife, while I massaged the very tall, muscular hubby.

As I was massaging Randy's hamstrings and glutes, I noticed B. practically jumping up and down on the other side of the room. She was massaging Jessica's calf, but was pointing at her (Jessica's) ass with her other hand, while trying not to laugh out loud. It was very dark in the room, but as I squinted carefully, I could just make out a lovely calligraphic tattoo on Jessica's right glute.

RANDALL'S

it proclaimed.

Wow.

Why not break out the branding iron, and do it right?

Then any time you hear bacon sizzling on the griddle, or smell pork ribs grilling on the barbecue, you'll be reminded how much you LUV your spouse. I mean, he OWNS your ass, right?

Surprisingly enough, I didn't see a tattoo on Randy's body proclaiming it Jessica's property, but then again, I didn't get to see EVERY body part, after all...

Murphy's Law Massage

A couple weeks ago I had my first side-by-side massage with B., the lead female therapist, and coincidentally the person who had the joy of training me in our protocols here, right before she left on maternity leave, which was right AFTER I came BACK from maternity leave (lots of pregnancies at the spa...DON'T ASK).

B. got to massage the girlfriend, while I had the guy.

Our massage gets off to a rollicking start when the attendants initially can't find a robe big enough for my client. So basically, B. already has the girlfriend on the table, but we're still waiting for the dude.

And the clock's ticking...

While R. and M. (the attendants) are running around looking for a super-sized robe, R. mentions that my client is bleeding from a cut or scrape on the nape of his neck. So now I scamper off to find some vinyl gloves, since I'm allergic to latex.

Finally Dude shows up, holding his robe closed with one hand. I hustle him into the treatment room, noticing that he's wearing a heavy necklace, which I offer to remove for him. Thanks to the fact that it's as dark as a well-digger's ass in there, I can't see what the hell I'm doing, and he reaches for the necklace, while letting go of the robe... and I'm SO outta there!

And the clock's ticking...

After Dude gets situated on the table, and B. and I re-enter the room, I start my patented Christina-massage©. When I get to his left arm, he jerks his head up and blurts:

Oh, I forgot my locker key, I think it's still in the locker! (which of course has his wallet, etc. in it...)

So I break off the massage, bolt to the entrance of the men's spa (I can't go in, natch) and (softly) holler for the attendant. R. listens to my whining, gets me the key, and back I race to the side-by-side room.

I quietly open the door and try to unobtrusively slide into the room, but am foiled by a small, lidded trash can which lurks innocently next to the door. I stomp squarely on the pedal and cause the lid to crash into the wall.

Wow, right about now I'm sure the clients are wondering when they agreed to appear on the latest episode of "America's Crappiest Spas, and how to Avoid Them", but I soldier on, 'cause that's what a professional does, right?

Okay, so I take a deep breath and finally get into my zone.

The massage is rolling right along, and I notice my client scrounged up a band-aid for his boo-boo. The boo-boo isn't a cut or scrape, either. Dude is a BIG guy, sporting a fade, and right at his hair-line at the nape of his neck, the three rolls of blubber flesh have caused chafing, which has lead to infected, ingrown hairs. Which he must have scratched or picked at, and which are now oozing blood and other, unsavory, unidentifiable liquids.

Thank the FSM I'm wearing gloves!

He is also very hairy, and has numerous other in-grown hairs scattered across his back...*

I continue with the massage, and as I'm working on Dude's quads, I happen to glance over at B...

I almost die trying to choke back laughter, 'cause she's massaging with one hand, while pulling out the front of her shirt with the other and blowing down the neckline!

Yes, it is HOT in that room. Good for the clients, not-so-good for the therapists.

Finally, we're almost done, I can see light at the end of the tunnel.

B.'s and my timing is very close, which isn't always the case with two very different therapists working together, and we're both massaging our clients' respective heads, necks, and shoulders. We're seated on these nifty rolling stools, which save wear and tear on our knees (NOT enough padding underneath the carpet in this joint, let me tell ya!)

I notice Dude's band-aid has come loose and is dangling on one side, probably a result of the massage oil, and I ask him if it's okay if I remove it. He assents, and I proceed to pay B. back for her earlier shirt-blowing episode...

I pull the band-aid off, and I'm wearing gloves, remember...

OF COURSE the fuckin' band-aid gets stuck to the glove! I'm whipping my right hand around like Matt G directing traffic at his town's Fall Festival, and the band-aid finally comes off, flying in a lovely arc to land thisclose to B.'s left foot.

Pay-back is truly a bitch, 'cause now it's B.'s turn to try to keep from busting a gut. Her shoulders are shaking, and it's a wonder her client doesn't notice anything.

Thankfully this concludes the massage from hell, and surprisingly enough, Dude and girlfriend are pleased.

We even get tips. Go figure.

What a way to impress your trainer, no?

---

*I know I've mentioned before that thick body-hair can be problematic when doing deep-tissue massage, but for the record let me state that I'm NOT grossed out by it, okay? And hair is INFINITELY preferable to stubble! This was a Swedish massage, in any case...

Massage Humor

You had to've been there...

Me (receiving a totally BRUTAL deep-tissue massage by K.): You know, after a day of doing massage my right shoulder is totally jacked-up right *here* (digging my thumb just into the space between shoulder and armpit).

K: The coracoid process?

Me: The coracoid process is more medial, isn't it?

K: No, the coracoid process, you know (crooking her pointer finger), it's the head of the pecker!

Me: WHAT?!

K: The bird's pecker!

Me: You mean the beak, right?

K: Yeah, the thing the bird pecks with. Damn, I can't get my tongue wrapped around my IQ today!

Much hilarity ensued. Also when I told her she'd make a great dominatrix (this while I was whimpering in pain as she was mauling my scapulae). She told me to bark like a dog...

Yes, Mistress!

Woof, woof.

Air Show

Most amusing and memorable sentence heard while viewing the Thunderbirds' performance at the 2007 Nellis AFB Air Show:

Silver (with awe): It's like marching band...WITH AIRPLANES!

Most goosebump-inspiring moment: Watching the Thunderbirds perform the "Missing Man" formation, while Taps was playing. Choked me up, too.

Pics to follow.

Thank you.

To all who've served and those who continue to serve, all my gratitude.

Since I've got nuthin'

Here's a random blog-thing I stole from Marko at the Munchkin Wrangler:

Your Inner European is Dutch!

Open minded and tolerant. You're up for just about anything.

Who's Your Inner European?

More spa stories to follow, just not today. I'm busy. Reading Academ's Fury by Jim Butcher.

Talk to you later!

Stay outta my spa!

Attention all you old biddies who are candidates of the Mrs. Old-Lady USA Pageant, or whatever-the-fuck it's called:

If you want to book appointments, please either call me, or come in one at a time, 'cause Ladies, honestly, all your clashing perfumes/colognes/haircare products/denture creams breath fresheners make me want to puke.

And they give me a headache.

And they make me sneeze.

Thank you, that is all.

Flashback

This song greeted me as I walked through the casino on my way to the spa this morning.



I immediately flashed back to the summer of 1985, to the outdoor disco at the international camp I was attending in the middle of the boonies in Hungary.

Dancing to this song with a stable boy who spoke neither German nor English (my only two languages), while I spoke not a word of Hungarian.

All I remember about him was how he asked me to meet him at the disco.

I had gone for a ride that morning, and after returning to the stables he had drawn a little picture of people dancing, with a question mark hovering over their heads.

Then he'd pointed to himself and me.

I'd nodded eagerly.

Some things are universal and require no speech (or thought, for that matter, especially for teenagers!)

I was fifteen, and the fact that the song defined "suckage" was irrelevant to me.

I was in Hungary! Without my mother! Dancing with an older man! Who was a stable boy!

Life was sweet.

Note to self...

crate dogs BEFORE attempting to massage daughter.

Last Night

Last night I had a dream. I dreamed that I was walking through a parking garage towards my car, when a tall, blond man approached me and asked me if I wanted his BMW.

I immediately assented, walked with him to his car and merrily drove off with him.

I don't know why I had to drive WITH him, if he was just planning on handing over the car keys, but it's my wacky dream, so bear with me.

The car was a very boxy two-seater convertible, certainly no BMW I'VE ever seen, and it was the lovely green color of every lawn-mower in existence.

So I'm riding along with this blond man, no sense of fear or danger at all, which is extremely stupid of my dream-self, if you ask me, and I start worrying in my dream about how I could afford the registration fees and added car insurance!

Sure, Chris! Forget about the fact that this guy might just possibly have an ulterior motive for driving off with you, and only worry about money.

It sucked the fun right out of the dream, and I woke up shortly thereafter.

Saturday

Saturday it was that time again.

The Las Vegas Invitational High School Marching Band Competition (whew, too many caps!).

Silver's HS band did not win or place, AGAIN. It's so frustrating for the kids, and the staff I'm sure, because they've all been working so damn hard, hours of rehearsals several evenings a week, and most Saturdays, too.

Then to see (according to the *motherf'n* judges) no improvement, it's just heartbreaking.

Silver was talking about quitting band, but it was just her frustration talking, because she really loves it.

Except the stress, that she could do without.

Also, as a parent who's financially strapped and who wants to go to college herself, it's important to encourage Silver to continue activities which can net scholarships.

Sad, but true.

This was her third year of competing, and also my third time attending, but for the first time, there were Army recruiters there! They must be desperate...lol!

I did my usual handshake, thank-you thing, and they were appreciative. I shudder to think of some of the parents' reactions to their presence.

Well, that's it for me today, as it has been craptastic (I was both late arriving to work *first time EVAR*, and late leaving. I'm sure I'll hear about it tomorrow, oh well...) and it's time for me to massage Silver, she really needs it and she has another competition tomorrow night (the Half-time Show Review at Sam Boyd Stadium).

Take care, people!

It's about time...

for a carwash, I know.

And maybe for me to call animal control, 'cause there are way too many feral cats running around here.*




*just kidding, I love kitties!

Christina's Word of Wisdom #4...? I think...?

If your young child is terrified of dogs, DON'T TAKE HIM TO THE DOG PARK!!!!

Randomness

Seen on a health form a (male) client filled out, in the space where one can write concerns or issues the therapist should be made aware of...:

I'm a wimp. Please be gentle with me...

---

Seen on a t-shirt a chubby teen-aged boy was wearing at a football game:

I go to school for the babes.

---

And I feel like I'm cursed, 'cause a guy sitting in the bleachers right below me kept leaning forward and putting his (highly UNattractive) ass-crack on display.

Blech.

I get enough ass at work.

Wait, that came out wrong...

Yum, yum

As I was waiting at a red light on Las Vegas Blvd. (aka "The Strip") this morning, three of these crossed right in front of me.

Yum, yum. Eye candy on my way to work.

Thank you, Las Vegas Metropolitan Police Department!

Gentlemen, keep on pedaling, the people you serve appreciate it more than you know.